Not Alone
by Fanwoman
Summary: Diana and Marco come home from dinner to find Maia has been kidnapped. Drama ensues. I'm trying to trump the show with this one, so expect it to finish quickly. DianaMarco
1. Chapter 1

NOTES: Yeek! After seeing the scenes from next week, I figured I needed to finish and post this story before Sunday, or it might seem redundant. Yes, a story with a real plot! Sure, it's a simple plot, but a plot, nonetheless. Since I started this before season three began, some things may seem a bit off, like the trials and Maia's visions. Just think of this as happening between the seasons, before Maia had recovered from the promicin inhibitor to the point she can see everything and when the trials mattered. Thank you PurpleYin for betaing.

SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

NOT ALONE

Part 1

It had become a pleasant habit.

After each week's worth of work and trial attendance, Diana and Marco would go to dinner. Depending on who they were with at the end of the day, sometimes they'd go with Maia or Tom and Alana or even Nina. Marco knew of a remarkable variety of great restaurants to eat and had an exceptional knack for picking ones that would please everyone. He'd taken them to places as posh as the foie gras-serving Campagne and as simple as Husky Deli, where she'd eaten her first hot pastrami and the chocolate malt had made Maia skip happily the rest of the night. These weekly dinners had become an enjoyable way to unwind and bond with the others who were going through the same ordeals, but it was just the two of them tonight.

He'd brought her to a place in Kirkland called Mixtura. From the upscale Latin menu, she'd selected a duck entree that had been subtly spiced and completely sublime. Between the food and the wine, they hadn't had room for dessert, but that had given them more time to enjoy the little park at the other end of the block. Overlooking Lake Washington, it offered a spectacular view of the night skyline and the perfect opportunity for a quiet, romantic moment.

She had been alone for so long, it had taken a bit of getting used to, but she was finally to the point where she was comfortable with him initiating contact. He never pressured her and seemed content to just hold her hand, if that was all she was in the mood for. Tonight, he held her close, humming along with the music that floated down from the restaurant and swaying in time with its slow beat. How was it he could make her feel like the center of the world? Sometimes, it seemed like too much, but not now. It felt right. She was ready.

"Marco?"

"Hmm?" Aware of her ease, he nuzzled just below her ear.

With a satisfied sigh, she tilted her head to give him easier access. "It's been a really good week." They were just days away from convicting one of Ryland's superiors.

"Mmm."

"I was thinking, maybe, after the trials are over, a vacation might be in order." She never took vacations, never had anyone to spend one with.

"Maia's always wanted to go to Disneyland," he murmured against her neck.

"I meant just the two of us."

This caused him to stop and pull away from her so he might look into her eyes. His own were guarded, but the slight trembling of his hands at her waist betrayed his surface calm.

"Maybe a B&B across the Sound for the weekend, something like that?"

"Diana..." Usually articulate and smooth, it amused her to have rendered him speechless.

"Say, 'yes.'"

"Yes." There was a reverent intensity to his voice that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

She gladly leaned into his imminent kiss and briefly lost track of everything but the delightful stimulation of his heated touch and its effects on her pulse. Usually tender and enticing in his affection, it was rare for his passion to be stoked to an uncontrolled intensity. His ardent lips seemed to demand reciprocation, and his embrace nearly drove the breath from her. There was something giddy and empowering about knowing she could bring this out of him. Combined with her body's fervent response, it felt like falling--frightening yet liberating.

Naturally, reality wouldn't allow the beautiful moment to last too long. With a little groan of disappointment, she apologetically pulled away from him to answer her vibrating cell phone. But it wasn't a call, just a text message. "Come home."

On their way back, they discussed possible places they might go on vacation and puzzled over why Iris would send a message when it was almost time to head home, anyway. Had Maia had a vision? Was she sick? Was there some family emergency Iris had to attend to? Curiosity turned to outright concern when they approached her block to find it closed by a trio of squad cars with flashing lights. Diana opened her car door before Marco finished pulling into an empty spot. Together, they jogged up to the police line, and, with a flash of IDs, they were past it, making their way to her building's main entrance on the corner, passing a pair of paramedic trucks along the way. Much to her aggravation, they had to show their IDs again to get inside. Whatever had happened, it seemed the police had yet to coordinate their efforts.

Her concern transformed into dread as the doorman, with an ice bag pressed against his head and misery in his eyes, motioned for them to hurry upstairs. At her floor, the elevator opened to a mass of neighbors and police, all seeming to talk at once.

"Ma'am, sir, you'll have to go back down," said a young officer, arms outstretched as though to herd them back into the elevator. For some reason, the blue of his eyes stood out against the muted tones around them, giving her something to focus on.

"The hell I do."

"Diana," murmured Marco beside her, holding up his ID, "he's just doing his job."

At the mention of her name, suddenly there was a chorus of "Diana"s and "Ms. Skouris"s and even a few "Marco"s from her neighbors, asking questions and voicing concerns, but she ignored them, pushing past the police blocking her end of the hall. That was when she spotted another officer attaching crime scene tape to her front door, heard Marco's breathless, "Oh, God," and felt her icy dread ignite into anger.

Surging down the hall, she ripped the tape off the door and stormed in. Behind her, Marco mollified the policewoman, but Diana's attention was on the tearstained Iris, sitting on a dining room chair and talking to an officer.

"Where's Maia?"

Iris looked up, wide-eyed, then stumbled to her feet. "Oh, Diana, I'm so sorry." She reached out, as though to comfort her, but Diana stepped back.

"Where is she?"

"Ma'am," began the officer, "this is a crime scene and-"

She rounded on him and his mild officiousness. "This is my _home_. _Where is my daughter!_"

"Maia..." began Iris, fresh tears in her eyes, "she's been kidnapped."

Although the words made Diana's worst fears a reality, they also somehow separated her from it. It was almost as though this were happening to someone else, that she was a bystander in her own life as her mind refused to process her anxiety. If not for Marco putting his hands on her shoulders, she might not have known she was shaking with rage. Shrugging him off, she stepped closer to her neighbor. "How did they get in? How many were there? Did they hurt her?" She struggled to keep her focus, to keep her fury from consuming her.

"There were three of them. They were dressed like people from Sears--you know, the kind who deliver appliances."

"You let them in!"

"No, no!" Iris' eyes went wide. "There was this noise, like keys in the lock--I thought it was you getting home early--then they were inside. They had guns." At this she sat back down, holding herself, gazing into space as she retold the experience. "What was I supposed to do? I remembered you once talking about never arguing with a gun, so I just held onto Maia as tightly as I could. But they took her from me...they just took her." As Iris ran her hands restlessly up and down her arms, Diana finally noticed the bruises all over them. Some part of her, separate from the fury that consumed her, appreciated the effort. "She was so brave. I could hardly breathe, but she managed to scream once. Then they put a cloth over her mouth. She fought it but eventually passed out. Once she was still, she was tied up and put in the refrigerator box they'd brought with them. While one man did that, the others taped my mouth shut...tied me up. I didn't fight them...I didn't fight them."

The doorman would have hit the silent alarm if they'd forced their way in, so their front must have been convincing enough to get past him. There were only so many who'd have the resources to pull off something like that.

"You did the right thing, Mrs. Benke." Marco was at her side, close enough for support but not touching. Why did her body perceive that at a time like this? It was distracting. "They probably didn't knock you out because of it, and that let you free yourself and contact us and the police sooner."

How did he know that?

Looking around, she noticed the broken vase, blood stains and severed ziptie on the floor.

"We're sorry you had to go through this and glad you weren't seriously hurt."

_We?_

She turned to Marco in his all but unflappable self possession. _He_ wasn't the one who'd just had a child taken by force.

"We need to contact Nina, start an investigation."

How could he remain so sedate and soothing? She didn't want to be soothed.

"_We_ don't need to do anything."

He blinked at her, plainly baffled. "The sooner we get on this-"

"Why should you get on anything?" She could hear the accusation in her voice, almost as though she were listening to someone else. "None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for _you_!"

His eyebrows lifted then furrowed in confusion. "How could you think I had anything to do with this?" There was a hint of indignation beneath his otherwise calm question.

"I should have been _here_, protecting my child!"

Understanding lit in his eyes, and he smiled sadly. "Your being here probably wouldn't have changed anything."

There was a loud, sharp noise. It took the sound of Marco's glasses hitting the floor for her to realize what had caused it, before she felt the skin of her palm tingling from having slapped him, hard.

"Get out." The two words were spoken so harshly, she hardly recognized them as her own.

She wasn't sure if the silence that followed was real or her inability to hear above the roaring in her ears and the deafening weight of the space between them. Slowly, he straightening from the position her slap had forced on him and stared at her, wide eyes wider without his glasses to hide them. In his shock, she saw everything he was feeling--longing, anxiety, disappointment and, most of all, hurt. Then he blinked, and she could read nothing beneath the smooth surface of his conviviality. With a bland smile and a nod, he bent to retrieve his glasses from the floor then turned and left, ducking lithely under the police tape.

Something in her snapped, causing a brief moment of vertigo, and she fought to keep her dinner down. Being ill in front of others was not acceptable. She felt a hand at her elbow, heard words in a comforting tone, but she brushed them off and stormed into her master bath--she couldn't bear the thought of seeing Maia's things in the other bathroom. Locking herself in, it was then she saw her reflection, angry tears staining her makeup. With a hasty jerk, she cranked the faucet to hot, full blast, and started scrubbing her face with a vengeance, contending again with the bile in her throat as she bent over the sink.

Once she was satisfied her face was clean, she looked up to see fear and desolation in her eyes. It caused her anger to rise up, whitening the edges of her vision. She had more important things to do than feel these things, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the pitiful woman in the mirror, the woman who may have just lost her child and the man she loved. In a growl of rage, she hefted the nearest heavy object, smashing it into the taunting reflective surface. The glass shattered with a satisfying crunch, the soap dish fulfilling its job--she no longer had to look at herself.

There was a pounding at the bathroom door, accompanied by concerned voices. The lock held, so she ignored them and sank with a sob onto her toilet seat. After the first one was out, another sob came, then another, until they overwhelmed her.

She was alone again.


	2. Chapter 2

NOTES: Thank you for such quick and lovely reviews! And a double thank you to PurpleYin for telling me how to get around ffnet's current document download glitch! Now, it's Marco's turn.

SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

NOT ALONE 

Part 2

It hurt, so much so that he had to will himself to keep breathing normally. Oddly, his stinging cheek was a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest, and putting on his glasses further concentrated his discomfort on the physical, tangible pain. He pushed his way past the officers who were keeping the other tenants out of the hall that led to Diana's apartment. His unfocused gaze caught on the face of Mrs. Skalko, one of the other people in the building who babysat Maia. A kind and personable woman, they both shared the bond of caring for the polite child and her bold mother. Some part of his brain fixated on the petite matron, her concerned expression jump-starting his aptitude for multitasking, allowing him to do something other than worry about Maia and whether or not he'd just ruined a relationship into which he'd put two years of careful effort and all of his heart.

"Mrs. Skalko." He couldn't quite manage a smile. "I'm glad you and your family are okay."

"Marco, what's happened?" She reached up to his face, and he instinctively bobbed his head away.

"Maia's been kidnapped."

Eyes wide, Mrs. Skalko withdrew her hand to cover her gaping mouth. "Has anyone been..."

"Nothing serious. Mrs. Benke was tied up, and Diana is understandably upset. Do you think you could help them? They could really use a calming influence right about now. Maybe your husband could talk with Mr. Benke? It might be a while before she can leave Diana's place."

"I'll do what I can. But what about _you_?"

"Diana...doesn't want to see me at the moment." He couldn't help but smile as Mrs. Skalko reached out to give his arm a comforting squeeze. "Besides, someone has to get the investigation started."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"I have a few ideas." There were countless people who would want revenge against Diana, the most obvious of whom were those currently on trial. Pulling out his wallet, he handed her a card. "If anyone gives you trouble about getting in, tell them to call me."

Nodding, she took the card then reached up to touch the uninjured side of his face. "Good luck, Marco. Be careful."

"Thank you, Mrs. Skalko."

Just then, the elevator opened to let out a couple Marco presumed, by their suits, to be police detectives. Wondering how he and Diana had arrived before they had, he slipped past them, and they both gave him a look.

"Hey," said the woman. "Who are _you_?"

The man finished her thought with a, "And where d'ya think you're going?"

Marco cut them off by flashing his NTAC ID. They turned away by the time the doors closed. Pulling out his cell phone, he dug up Nina's personal number from its memory and dialed.

"Jarvis here." Her voice was always so businesslike.

"Hello. It's Marco." How to say this? "Sorry to bother you at home, but Maia Skouris has been kidnapped."

"I know, the police chief just contacted me."

The elevator reached the first floor, and he made his way to the doorman's station. "I'd like permission to start an investigation."

"Granted. Who do you plan on using?"

"Baldwin and Brady, maybe a few others." He offered a wave to the pair of police officers interviewing people in the lobby, and they responded with nods.

"What about Skouris?"

"I don't think she's up to it." It made him cringe to say so, but he managed to sound reasonably detached.

"And Adams?"

Mention of the name brought Marco to a dead halt, and he abruptly recalled the funerals of agents Mortimer and Falcone. There had been nothing he could have done to prevent their deaths, but he had never escaped the vague feeling that he should have somehow foreseen the possibility of what had happened to them, maybe warned them or objected to their assignment. He knew no one could have predicted their biohazard gear wouldn't be enough against Jean Baker's virus. Still, it had been a hard lesson, and because of it, he'd determined to never let anyone come to danger due to a lack of foresight on his part.

Despite this, he'd completely forgotten the quartet of agents assigned to watch Diana's place during the trials. Apparently, it was Adams' shift. "I..." He scanned the street outside and spotted an ambulance beside one of the paramedic trucks. There was a flurry of activity next to a car on the street, someone being loaded onto a stretcher. Thankfully, there was no body bag or obscuring blanket that would indicate the patient was dead. "Looks like he's headed to the hospital."

"I'll check on it. Let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks."

_None of this would have happened if it hadn't been for you!_

Diana's words rang painfully in his head as he watched the ambulance pull away, lights flashing. Logically, he knew it wasn't true. Regardless of whether or not he and Diana were dating, whoever had done this would have found a way, but, at that moment, he felt the heavy weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Had they grown complacent after weeks of trials without incident? Was there something they could have done to prevent this? Why now?

"Hey, Marco!"

Forcing his gaze away from the fading lights of the ambulance, he turned to find Alberto walking up to him, still nursing the back of his head with an ice pack.

"What happened to you?" The doorman patted him on the shoulder. "Man, you look like I feel."

Marco's mind clicked back into gear. "If that's the case, you can't be feeling too badly." He tugged at his suit jacket to complete his attempt at humor and got a half-amused snort out of Alberto. "Seriously, though, I'm glad you're okay. Actually, I was wondering if you could do something for me..."

"Will it help catch the bastards who did this?" The heat in the older man's voice was understandable.

"That's the plan."

"What do you need?"

Digging into his pocket, Marco pulled out his keychain and unclipped a memory stick. "I'd like a copy of all relevant security camera footage."

"Let's get to it."

He followed the burly doorman to the small, windowless room off the lobby that contained the computers and video equipment dedicated to monitoring the complex's public spaces. Watching Alberto flash through the footage of the various cameras on the central monitor, Marco couldn't help but wonder if he and Diana had ever been caught kissing on one of them. The thought made his heart lurch. All he wanted to do was be there for her, to hold her until she regained her equilibrium and could take over the job he was starting. He knew she'd want to be the one leading the investigation, and it disturbed him on some fundamental level that she was so shaken by this that he had to do it. It made him feel alone. Despite his doubts about being in charge, the possibility he might not succeed never entered his mind; Diana needed Maia.

"So who was it they said they were delivering a refrigerator to?"

"The new guy, Mr. Olmstead in 413," grumbled Alberto. "He's the son of a bitch who knocked me out just as I noticed that those other two were delivering to the wrong condo." There was guilt in his voice.

"Don't worry about it. There's no way you could have known." If the people responsible had gone through the effort to buy a condo to pull this off, that created a whole new set of wrinkles.

"The cops say there's no sign of him."

"Now that his part of the job is done, no reason to stick around." He gave the man a pat on his shoulder. "Do you mind if I make a call? I've got to get the ball rolling on this."

"Go for it." Then he nodded to the right. "The reception's best in the back corner."

While Alberto began copying the relevant files, Marco flipped open his cell and dug up another number.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tom."

"Marco?" Tom never sounded particularly friendly, but there was a definite irritation in his voice. "How'd you get this number?"

It was the first time Marco had ever called the special agent on his home's land-line "I've always had this number."

"Why?"

"In case of an emergency." To help convey his point, he let some of his tension leak into his voice.

Suddenly, the agent was all business. "What's wrong?"

"Maia's been kidnapped." He was getting tired of saying that.

"_What?_" There was a concerned feminine voice in the background, and Tom repeated what Marco had said. "So why isn't Diana the one calling me?"

"She's...not in any condition to do this right now."

"Is she wounded?" There was a worried hitch in his voice like nothing Marco had ever heard from him.

"No, not physically. Look, I've already gotten permission from Nina to open the investigation, but I'm no field agent. I'd prefer for you to be in charge of that; I just need to know if you're in or out."

"I'm in. You headed for NTAC?"

"As soon as I've finished downloading the surveillance for Diana's building."

"Meet you there in half an hour."

"In case you get there before me, the abduction took place at approximately..." Marco looked over Alberto's shoulder to double check the time in the corner of the screen, "twenty after eight. So if you could start pulling up traffic footage, that'd be great."

"See you soon."

"Thanks, Tom."

Alberto detached the memory stick and handed it back to Marco. "All done."

"Thanks. I owe you one." He headed back to the lobby with the doorman beside him.

"The hell you do. You're the one who told me which system to recommend to the owner and earned me a big bonus last year. This is the least I can do."

Of course, Marco's motivation had been largely selfish; he'd wanted a reliable system to monitor Diana's place, just in case. He'd never imagined he'd be taking advantage of its superior technological features to rescue Maia from kidnappers.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay, man?"

Looking into Alberto's worried gaze, it took a moment to process the question; his mind was already busy planning what he'd do at NTAC. "Actually, I could use some aspirin and water."

"I've got Advil."

"That'd be great."

While Alberto dug up a pair of pain killers and a bottle of water, Marco asked the police if they had anything new. The only useful information they'd learned was that, apparently, the kidnappers had headed north. After popping the Advil, he thanked Alberto and the officers then headed back to his car. Upon stepping inside, he was briefly overwhelmed as the subtle scent of Diana surrounded him and made his heart feel like it was being squeezed. Switching on the fan, he drove the delicate odor away and focused on driving.

Once he was clear of the traffic surrounding Diana's block, he dialed Brady. As expected, he got the answering machine. "Hey, Brady, it's Marco. Pick up the phone." After a pause, he added, "I know you're home watching Sci-fi Friday. I wouldn't be calling if it wasn't important. Pick up the phone." He took a deep breath, trying to control his frustration. "You've got TiVo; use it. Maia's been kidnapped, and I need some backup in the Theory Room."

Finally, the phone picked up. "Why didn't you call P.J.?"

"He's on a date, and you know it." How could Brady be so petulant? Maia's life was at stake! "I don't have time for this. Should I be calling Lee?"

"No. I'll do it."

"Then I expect to see you at NTAC before ten." He hung up without waiting for a response.

At a stoplight, he drew another deep breath in an attempt to tap some inner calm, but he found himself lacking. All he could do was shove his irritation aside and focus on what needed doing. Just one more person to call.

Maia had once mentioned her aunt resided in Berkeley, but even without that detail, there were only so many people named April Skouris in the world. Fortunately, she was not unlisted, and before he'd reached the next light, he'd gotten her number from information.

"Hello?"

"Hi. April? My name's Marco Pacella-"

"Sorry, but, whatever you're selling, I can't afford it."

The line went dead, so he called again.

She answered with a resigned, "Look, I said I don't want any."

"It's about Maia." He blurted it out quickly, before she could hang up again.

That caught her attention. "Excuse me?"

"There's been a...situation. Are you driving?"

"I don't own a car. What's happened?"

"There's no good way to say this, but...Maia's been kidnapped."

There was a strangled gasp and the sound of the phone being dropped. This was followed by shuffling feet, other voices and the phone being picked up.

"Are you okay?" That was all he needed--to have caused Diana's sister to pass out.

"Hi," said a man's voice. "April will be with you in just a second." The phone was apparently set down, then he heard a distant, "No, it's not broken" and a, "Yeah, he's still there."

After about half a minute of indistinct conversation, the phone was picked up again. "Sorry about that. Not the sort of call you expect on a Friday night." There was an anxious quaver in her irreverent voice.

"I'm sorry to be the one to tell you about this."

"Don't be." She drew in a long breath and let it out in a huff. "Is Diana okay? I can't imagine her letting anyone take Maia without a fight."

"She wasn't home when it happened."

"Where was she?"

"Having dinner with me," he confessed.

There was a pause before she asked, "What did you say your name was, again?"

"Marco Pacella."

"Marco? As in the sweet geek my sister works with?"

There was an irrepressible flutter in his chest. "Diana says I'm sweet?" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"Maia does."

"Oh." He forcibly reminded himself that Diana had invited him on a weekend for two less than an hour earlier.

"So, if Diana's okay, why are _you_ the one calling me?" Her tone was suspicious. "She would have called if she'd wanted me to know."

"She doesn't know I'm calling."

"Huh?"

"This has hit her pretty hard, and she could really use someone to lean on."

"What about you?" She seemed honestly puzzled.

Unsure what she meant by the question, he answered, "She's not in the mood for my company right now."

He'd thought he'd said it blandly enough, but there must have been something in his voice. "Oh, God! Don't tell me she blames _you_ for this?" Despite being estranged, it seemed April knew her sister only too well. Her insight brought a grim smile to his lips--this was the woman best suited to get through to Diana.

"I was hoping you'd be up for a trip to Seattle."

"In a heartbeat, but I can't afford it."

"I'll buy you a ticket. Is Oakland the closest airport for you?"

"You'd do that?" She seemed sincerely awed by the idea.

"Yeah. How soon can you get there?"

"Uh..." She conferred with the people around her. "Twenty minutes."

"I'll call you back with the airline as soon as I get the ticket."

"Are you sure about this?" Her tone was plainly dubious. "She might not be in the mood for _my_ company, either."

"Doing nothing is not an option."

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Marco."

One of Aunt Stella's favorite phrases came to mind--_in for a penny, in for a pound_. If irrevocable damage had already been done to his relationship with Diana, inviting her sister to Seattle couldn't make it worse. Of course, the phrase made him think of Maia, whose tastes were not dissimilar to those of most of his aunts. Was she hurt? Was she scared? Or did she already know the outcome? As far as he knew, Maia had offered no warning. Surely she would have mentioned a vision about a kidnapping, especially if it involved herself.

By the time he'd booked a flight and shared the details with April, he'd arrived at NTAC. Pausing just outside the entrance's sensor range, he finished his conversation before driving into the vast cell phone dead zone that was the parking garage.

"So you have enough cash to get from the airport to Diana's?"

"Yeah, my friends pitched in." In the background, there was the echoing sound of a boarding call.

"And you'll have a place to stay, in case she won't see you?"

"Don't worry about it. You focus on finding Maia; leave Diana to me."

"Have I thanked you for all this?"

There was an amused snort. "You're the one buying me a ticket and rescuing my niece, and you think _you_ need to thank _me_?"

"You're dropping everything to fly up here on a moment's notice," Marco pointed out.

"Yeah, that _is_ pretty cool of me. But, really, what else would anyone do under these circumstances?"

"Still, I'd like you to know how much I appreciate this."

There was a pause, followed by, "Do you have a brother?"

"Huh?" The blare of a car horn caused him to jump. Looking in his rearview mirror, he saw Brady hanging out his window, gesturing for Marco to enter the garage. "I've got to go. Call me if you need anything."

Stowing his cell, he rolled down his window while pulling up to the freestanding datapad set in front of the parking garage gate. Typing in his code, the gate dutifully opened, and he descended into the bowels of NTAC. No doubt his mood was coloring his perceptions, but in the gathering fog, the light from the garage's entrance seemed to glow like the gaping maw of Hell.


	3. Chapter 3

NOTES: Thank you for the reviews! And thank you for the beta, Rodlox!

SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

NOT ALONE 

Part 3

With Brady on his heels, Marco made his way from the parking garage to the Theory Room, forcibly making the mental transition from crime victim to crime solver. Worrying about Diana and Maia just then wouldn't do anyone any good.

"I need you to dig up everything you can on Carl Olmstead." He passed Brady a business card from Diana's building. "This guy's one of them, and he recently bought condo 413 at that address." Hastily unlocking the door, he quickly moved to his desk to tap his computer's on button. Then he picked up his phone. "I want everything on this guy--phone records, loan information, family history-"

"Marco, I know what to do."

Pausing, phone in hand, he turned and blinked at his colleague. "Right. Sorry. Thanks."

Brady's eyes were drawn to the left side of Marco's face, but if there were visible bruises, he didn't say anything. With a nod, Marco turned to his computer, attaching his memory stick with one hand while dialing Tom's office phone with the other.

"Marco." There was no question in Tom's voice.

"Hey, Tom. Brady and I just got here." Reaching over to Lee's desk, he turned on the computer. "We're warming up a computer for you. Mind joining us down here?"

"Be there in a minute."

The line went dead, then Marco's cell phone rang. It was Tom, again.

"Based on traffic camera footage, it looks like they headed north."

"Yeah, that's what the cops said." Marco began flicking through the security camera footage from Diana's building, trying to get a good shot of one of the kidnapper's faces. They were all wearing baseball caps, so he wasn't having much luck. "You get a license plate number?"

"Yeah, but other than using it for an APB, it's all but useless." In the background, the elevator dinged. "The truck was a rental, paid for in cash. The IDs used to rent it are bogus. It dropped off the camera grid near a business park about ten miles from Diana's place. I think they changed vehicles." There was another ding, and Marco could hear the elevator doors opening down the hall. "What I don't understand is how these guys got past Adams and the doorman in the first place." The line went dead, again, as Tom walked in the door, cell phone in one hand, a thermos in the other. After one look at Marco's face, Tom stopped dead in his tracks, eyebrows crawling toward his hairline.

Not wanting to discuss his appearance, Marco gestured to Lee's desk. "They took out Adams."

That caused both Brady and Tom to gape at him. Holding up his hands, Marco elaborated, "I saw them put him in an ambulance; he was out but not dead. Nina said she'd check on him." Turning back to his computer, he continued, "They were dressed as Sears appliance people, and this Olmstead in 413...he told the security guy he'd been expecting them. Then Olmstead knocked him out before he could react to the appliance being delivered to the wrong condo. I'm trying to get a good shot of one of them so I can run it through the face-recognition program."

"I'm working on Olmstead," supplied Brady, no doubt so Tom wouldn't duplicate his efforts.

"This guy rent or own?"

"Own." Marco glanced over to see a speculative expression on Tom's face. "Why?"

"My ex-wife's a realtor; she might know something we can't get from the records." He turned to Brady with a snap and a pointed finger. "Do you have the realtor's name?"

"Just getting it now...Rachel Chang."

Pulling out his cell, Tom dialed and walked into the hall.

"He's fun to work with," muttered Brady unenthusiastically.

"Yeah, well...it's results that count, right?"

Marco tried to concentrate on his own efforts, skimming through the footage, one camera at a time, but his lack of immediate success was wearing on him. Having to watch the bastards as they took Maia didn't make it any easier to concentrate. From outside, Tom's voice would occasionally rise with emphasis, allowing Marco and Brady to catch snatches of the conversation. There was a "What does Kyle have to do with this?" and a "We're talking about a little girl's _life_!" At one point, he popped his head into the room. "The cops just found the truck abandoned. They're checking out the area and trying to get the private security camera footage, see if they can spot another vehicle leaving."

After a few more minutes, Tom came back in. "She's going to check on a few things for us." Twisting off the cap of the thermos, he popped it open, letting the scent of fresh coffee waft across the room. "Alana thought we could use some decent coffee. You guys want any?"

Brady had already fished his mug from a drawer, absently holding it out as he focused on the data on his screen. "Thanks."

Rinsing his mug with the mostly-drunk bottle of water he'd left on his desk the day before, Marco held it out for his own measure of the dark liquid. It was too late at night to be drinking coffee, even some as good as that which Tom's significant other had brewed, but he could deal with the repercussions to his stomach later. For the time being, alertness and attentiveness were absolute necessities, and in that, coffee was his staunchest ally. "Thanks, Tom. There's sugar and creamer over there, if you need it." He nodded in the direction of the Theory Room's mini-fridge, microwave and coffee maker tower hidden behind P.J.'s desk.

"I'm good." Tom sipped his coffee and moved behind Marco, looking over his shoulder. "Anything?"

"Other than the general height, build, gender and race information we already have? No."

"What about that reflection in the elevator doors?" As the men approached the elevator in the lobby, there was a fairly good shot of one of them around the side of the refrigerator box.

"I've already tried it. There's not enough light or clarity to let the contrast protocols do anything meaningful." It was more than frustrating that the new security system--the one _he_ had recommended--could be foiled by something as simple as baseball caps.

Tom returned to Lee's desk, and for a time, they worked in silence. Then Brady led out an awed, "Well, I'll be damned."

Happy to take a break from his own fruitless search, Marco joined Tom behind Brady's chair.

"This Olmstead guy? It's not an alias." He pointed a skinny finger at a particular window on the screen. "That's his real name. And while he used his own money to buy the condo, he recently opened an account in Switzerland into which a third party has been depositing nine grand a day for the last three months."

"So he's definitely working for someone else," observed Marco.

"Well, you know what they say about trying to catch a crook..." began Tom.

"Always follow the money," they chorused.

After contacting Nina to have her issue a lookout for Olmstead at the border, airports, bus stations and ferry landings, Tom joined Brady in his quest to figure out where the money had come from. Nina let them know Adams had been pistol-whipped and had a concussion but was otherwise unharmed. At least these people seemed intent on not killing anyone.

As nice as it would be to catch Olmstead and find out who hired him, Marco couldn't help but believe neither would prove very useful in figuring out where Maia was. IDing one of the kidnappers, however, would probably help tremendously. It was in the elevator camera footage that he finally caught something that might be useful--a tattoo on one of the men's necks, just visible as he turned his head to talk with the man behind him. Tom must have somehow sensed his sudden excitement, for he left his desk to look over Marco's shoulder again.

"Isn't Diana's sister a tattoo artist?" Tom wondered aloud.

"Yeah." Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed her up, but she didn't answer. "She's not picking up."

"You know her phone number?"

"Had to call her to get her up here." Marco shrugged.

"She's at Diana's?"

Glancing at his watch, he realized it was after midnight, that Maia had been in the hands of her abductors for four hours. Pushing that thought aside, along with all the emotions that went with it, he answered, "Should be by now."

"I'll call Alana."

Curious, he spun in his chair to face Tom as the special agent made his own call. "How will that help?"

"She insisted on going to Diana's." Apparently, Ms. Mareva was answering her cell; Tom turned away and began pacing. "Okay." Apparently, Ms. Mareva also had a lot to report to Tom, who was making a circular motion with his free hand as though to speed her along. "Okay. Look, is Diana's sister there?" Nodding, Tom continued, "I need you to give her the phone. I'll explain later. Good." Turning back, he handed his cell to Marco.

It was a bit surreal. Although sharing a phone was no big deal to most people, Tom had only grudgingly shared an NTAC sedan to Abendson Hospital to see Tess Doerner's tower, let alone something as personal as his own phone. Shaking off the bewilderment that passed through him, Marco turned his attention to the person on the other end of the line.

"Hello?" Maia's aunt sounded puzzled and a tiny bit vexed.

"Hey, it's Marco. Glad you got there all right."

"I'm so glad I came." There was worry in her hushed voice. "I've never seen her like this."

Doing his best to ignore the curl of dread and heartache that threaded through him with those words, he clarified his intent. "I didn't call to ask about Diana."

"You didn't?"

"One of the kidnappers has a tattoo..." If she had half the brains of her sister, Marco didn't need to waste time dragging her to the obvious conclusion. "Can your cell deal with photos?"

"Oh! I turned it off on the plane. Yeah, send it to me; I'll see what I can find out." She said something to someone else then spoke to him again. "In the meantime, you can find all the tattoo links you might need on my live journal. I'll PM you if I find anything useful."

"Good luck."

"You, too."

Closing the phone and absently handing it back to Tom with a "Thanks," Marco sent the cleaned up image to April's phone and began surfing through the links in her live journal, posting the tattoo in every forum he could find.

Apparently April had a remarkable network and knew how to use it, even in the middle of the night. While Marco had only gotten one name--that of a teen in Florida--in under an hour, April managed to dig up a dozen names of people on the West Coast with that tattoo on their necks. Dumping the names into NTAC's link to the DHS' database, they came up with two with criminal records. The one from California answered his land-line, which left David Slowinski, a resident of Oregon. Tom had Nina to put out an APB for the man then dug through traffic footage, looking for the suspect's white Bronco. As hopeful as they had been about this new lead, neither Tom nor the cops could find any evidence of Slowinski in Seattle.

In the meantime, Brady had dug through several shell companies until he finally traced Olmstead's money back to a Canadian futures brokerage called Liberty Holdings. This caused them to speculate about the kidnappers' motives. All of them had assumed, despite that no ultimatums had been delivered to Diana, that the people who had taken Maia were intent on stopping Diana's testimony during the trials--and act as an example to others who might be testifying against them. But an initial search found no link between Liberty Holdings and the men behind the promicin inhibitor.

"What is Maia's ability?" wondered Brady.

Marco and Tom exchanged uncertain glances. Diana was very private about the issue, and Tom was private about everything.

The slender genius turned in his chair to give them both a disgruntled look. "It's not like it's a state secret or something. Do I need to pull up her file?"

Tom waved a hand at Marco, as though to let him go first. Resisting the urge to scowl at the man, he focused on his colleague. "Maia's a precog."

"Oh." Behind his glasses, Brady's eyes rounded then narrowed. "Suddenly it makes sense why a brokerage firm would want her."

"And why there's been no ransom note," added Tom with a grim frown.

Marco flipped open his cell and dialed Nina. "We need to make patrolling the border a priority, get the Canadians involved."

Just as Nina picked up, Tom's phone rang, and he moved into the hall to answer it. Shortly before Marco finished updating Nina, Tom bounded back into the room.

"Linda's got something." He hastily grabbed a pen and scribbled on a post-it, holding his phone in place with one shoulder. "Uh-huh," he said to his ex. "Got it. Thanks."

"Uh...do you mind hanging on for a second?" Marco murmured into his cell. "I think we may have another lead."

Stowing his phone in a pocket, Tom pulled the note he'd just made from the pad with a triumphant flourish and handed it to Marco before turning to his computer without sitting down.

The note was an address.

"Chang said she remembered something Olmstead did that was a bit weird," rambled Tom as he divided his attention between his explanation and his keyboard. "He was looking at condos _and_ mountain cabins, claiming he had a relative who was thinking of buying one."

Marco moved to look over Tom's shoulder and found the special agent was digging through police reports from a small town in Snohomish County.

"Apparently, Olmstead was very chatty, asking about the people who owned the cabins, which ones were local, why they were for sale, that sort of thing," continued Tom. "Of the places Chang showed him, only one is still unsold and vacant."

"Are you getting all this?" Marco asked into his phone.

"Yes." If Nina was excited by the prospect, there was no telling from her tone. "Does he have an address?"

"There!" Tom pointed to the screen. "There was a report of lights at odd hours, and the cops questioning a guy who was working on the place. His claim that he was a plumber panned out, but he the company he was working for..."

Brady had joined Marco to peer at Tom's screen. "...is one of Liberty Holdings' shell companies."

"Exactly!" Tom turned and pointed at Marco. "That Nina?"

He passed the phone over with a nod. Tom put it to his ear and started pacing. "I need whoever's on call to head north. I'll be en route in a minute. Yeah." He nodded and took the post-it from Marco's hand. "132 King Lake Drive; it's east of High Rock." He nodded again. "Combs, Harrison and Sanchez. Got it. Let them know I'll be in my car, not an NTAC vehicle, and tell them to wait. I'd rather we outnumber them." One last nod and a "Thanks, Nina" later, Tom snapped the cell shut and handed it back. "Let's go."

Marco was confused. "Go? Us?" He flicked his thumb between himself and his fellow geek.

Tom gave him a baffled look and smacked his shoulder. "Just _you_, Marco. Someone should keep investigating." He turned his gaze to Brady. "You don't mind, right?"

"Yeah, I'm good here." Brady held up his hands and took a step back from Tom's sudden intensity.

Perhaps if he said it plainly enough, Tom would understand his perplexity. "I'm...not a field agent, Tom."

"What? You think I'm going to put a gun in your hand or something?" The taller man's incredulity was palpable. "You're coming for _Maia_, Marco. It's not like Diana can be there for her, and she barely knows me."

"Oh." For some reason, he hadn't thought about his involvement at this stage, and the responsibility and obligation he had for Diana's daughter suddenly blindsided him. How could he not have insisted on going? Had Diana's slap so addled his wits that he couldn't put a little girl's emotional needs in front of his own instinct to withdraw? "Right. Let me grab a few things."

"Do it quick," Tom ordered as he closed up his thermos. "Meet you at my car."

Rummaging through the box of freebies from the last technology expo his department had attended, Marco pulled out a flimsy backpack with a Sick Inc. scanner logo on the back and stuffed in a few of the toys they'd picked up as promotional items from various companies--glow-in-the-dark playdoh, a stuffed chameleon, a mini etch-a-sketch and a three-dimensional puzzle. Then he added a couple bottles of water and juice from the 'fridge along with some raisins and nuts he kept in his desk and grabbed a case with one of the office laptops, a satellite internet connection and a charger for the car. Finally, he snagged his NTAC jacket from the coatstand, along with a cardigan he had forgotten in the office a few weeks back--Maia probably hadn't been wearing warm clothes when she was taken.

As he made his way to the door, Brady called out. "Hey! Here!" Marco turned in time to catch a bag of peanut M&M's from Brady's private stash. They were one of Maia's favorites. "Good luck."

The gesture moved him more than he thought possible, and he had to look away for a moment, using the need to add the M&Ms to the backpack as an excuse. "Thanks." He managed to sound completely normal. With a smile and a wave, he left. "Later, Brady."

"You owe me, Pacella!" His colleague's words followed him down the hall.

"I know," he called back.

Juggling the backpack and computer case, Marco slipped on his NTAC jacket and pushed through the door to the garage. Tom had already pulled up to wait for him.

* * *

Between the lack of traffic so late at night and Tom's authority to break the speed limit, the drive to High Rock went fairly quickly. Other than Brady's report that Olmstead had been captured trying to cross the border by boat and the discovery that Tom enjoyed opera, it was an uneventful trip. By the time they were approaching the target house, they had been joined by a pair of CIA agents who had apparently been sent once Nina's request for Canadian assistance had passed over the desk of the local head of the DHS. 

Between the two agencies, the surveillance equipment was like a technological pissing contest, though Marco was much happier to have an excess as opposed to a deficiency. According to the heat signatures, Maia was in a bedroom by herself, which made their jobs significantly easier. Within minutes, the NTAC and CIA agents had a plan in motion. Left safely with the equipment some fifty yards from the cabin, Marco watched it all play out with a weird sense of detachment, as though the thermal images were no more real than characters in a video game. It was over quickly, with the kidnappers giving up and Maia rescued safely.

Accompanied by an agent, Maia's heat signature separated from the jumble of those in the house and slowly made its way toward him. Unused to feeling impatient, he found himself overwhelmed by a sudden, relentless restlessness that demanded action. So he abandoned the millions in equipment and made his way through the dark woods to meet Maia. At first, he walked, but once he saw her silhouetted against the lights of the cabin, dwarfed by the bulk of Tom's NTAC jacket, he broke into a jog, his body seemingly having a will of its own. When he was close, Maia pulled away from Tom and let Marco pick her up to hold her tight. Only then did he let go of all the worry and doubt and dread that he'd been holding at bay--no precious little girl would be lost because of him! Eyes stinging with the rush of relief that flooded through him, he found himself speechless and all but breathless. It was as though he held his salvation in his arms.

After the intensity of the moment ebbed, Maia whispered in his ear, "It's okay, now."

Pulling back, he looked at her. She had just been rescued from kidnappers, yet she seemed so calm. He, on the other hand, was on the edge of a breakdown. Somehow, it caused him to laugh. "Yeah, I guess it is, huh?"

"Let's go home," she suggested sagely.

"Good idea." Tom smacked Marco on the shoulder, drawing him further from his reverie.

With assurances from Tom that they could leave the rest to the other agents, they piled into his car. Marco took the backseat with Maia, making sure to sit on her left so she the only saw the unbruised side of his face. Blithely abandoning Tom's jacket in favor of Marco's cardigan, Maia pulled up her knees to tuck her legs inside it. Munching M&Ms and drinking grape juice, she told them what had happened. The abduction had been a scary blur, but, shortly after she'd woken up, she'd had a vision of her rescue. That's why she was so calm, though she was worried about her mother. She seemed reassured by the news that Diana was with April. Having called Alana to tell her the good news, Tom added that they had managed to get Diana to go to sleep. Soon, the excitement and sugar buzz wore off, and Maia fell asleep, herself. Just watching her breathe, knowing she was safe, filled him with a deep poignancy his tired, befuddled brain couldn't fathom. Was it how a father might feel?

Marco convinced Tom to drop him off at NTAC, insisting that it didn't matter which one of them took Maia home. Besides, unlike Tom, he didn't have anyone who would be kept up by his absence. The older man seemed intent to voice his opinion on Marco's personal life, but just then Maia woke up and asked where she was, what was happening. So he explained to her he still had some stuff to do and that Tom would take her home. She, too, seemed unconvinced, but he pointed out that the longer they debated the issue, the longer Diana would be waiting. In the end, his resolve was stronger, and he saw them off with a wave and a false smile.

He felt drained and wanted nothing better than to go home and collapse into bed, but he really did have things to do. Returning to the Theory Room, he filled Brady in on all that had happened while he put away his jacket and equipment. Once they'd gotten permission from Nina and shut everything down, Marco offered to buy his colleague breakfast, but Brady wanted to sleep, too.

Setting his iPod to Nirvana, Marco cranked his stereo, letting the music and volume keep him awake as he made his along the freeway. Fortunately, there was still no traffic. He kind of blanked out parking his car in the garage and making his way to his backdoor. But he must have done it because he was crossing the kitchen toward the stairs when his cell phone rang. It was April. Too tired to want to talk, even to Diana's agreeable sibling, he switched the cell to vibrate and hauled himself up the stairs. Before he reached the top, the phone went off, again. This time, it was a text message from her. "Thanks" was all it said. It made him smile.

After visiting the bathroom, he kicked off his shoes, set aside his glasses, pulled off his clothes, crawled into bed and enthusiastically fell into oblivion.


	4. Chapter 4

NOTES: And now, it's time for us to get back to Diana's POV and for the story to come to an end. Thank you, Rodlox and PurpleYin, for the betas!

SPOILERS: through Mommy's Bosses/season two

DISCLAIMER: _The 4400_ and all things associated with it belong to other people.

* * *

NOT ALONE 

Part 4

It was a surprise, hearing April's voice at the bathroom door. She didn't bother questioning why or how her sister had turned up in Seattle; she just opened the door to see if her mind was playing tricks on her. There stood April in all her unkempt glory, no figment of her imagination. Never before had she been gladder to see her sister, not even that time when Jack had dumped her because he hadn't liked competing for attention with her degrees.

April coaxed her out of her bathroom, helped her change into something more comfortable and got her out of her room to sit with her on the sofa with a blanket. Then she stuck a cup of some herbal tea in one of Diana's hands and carefully massaged the other. There were candles and soothing scents and voices. In a haze, she did what they told her, the drive to be involved with finding Maia overwhelmed by the calming pressure of the women around her. It took every ounce of control to keep herself still and not rave like a maniac. The others apparently took it as a sign of success on their parts. In a way, perhaps it was, their mere presence somehow tethering her to sanity and a need for propriety.

Iris left around midnight, but Mrs. Skalko stayed. Tom's girlfriend was there, too, and even Nina stopped by, offering Diana assurances that the investigation was going well and that Diana would not be a part of it. Perhaps, if she had been in a different state of mind, a personal visit from the head of NTAC might have made more of an impact, but in order to remain remotely calm, she had to force everything, including her attentiveness in regards to updates on the search for her daughter. It was like being a performer on a stage, with all her reactions coming from some subconscious script based on what she felt they expected of her. By sticking to the script, maybe she could prevent doing to them what she had done to Marco. So she didn't really absorb any of the details Nina told her. Instead, they tumbled around in her head, vaguely reassuring but not fully processed.

Eventually, she was persuaded to go to bed. She couldn't help but suspect that the tea and scents and massage were the main reasons she could even consider laying down in the midst of such a crisis, that and the collective will of the people around her. They expected her to, so she tried. Of course, it took some time before her brain shut down enough for her to actually sleep, but she did, though her dreams were troubled, offering little rest. In the small hours of the morning, she heard her front door open. It was not a sound she was used to hearing second hand, and the oddity of it woke her before the murmurs of hushed but excited voices filled her living room. She opened the door to her bedroom just as her sister was reaching for the knob, but that barely registered. Behind April stood Tom with a sleepy Maia in his arms. She heard a noise, like a cross between a gasp and a sob, which she assumed must have come from herself, and then she was holding her daughter, laughing at the simple joy of it.

Despite having just been rescued from kidnappers, Maia was crabby as only a tired ten-year-old could be. So April shooed them into her bedroom and took care of Tom and Alana and Mrs. Skalko.

Just as she was about to drift off, snugly spooning her daughter, Maia said, "You have to see Marco tomorrow."

The somber words caused a spark of worry in her heart. "Did you have a vision?"

"No."

"Then why?"

There was no immediate response, as though Maia were weighing her words. "He was happy to see me, but... His mouth was smiling while his eyes were sad. He said it was better for Tom to bring me home, instead of him. It was like he was afraid. I think he thinks you don't want to see him anymore." She paused for a moment. "He's wrong, isn't he? He didn't do anything bad, did he?"

"I was the one who did something bad." Diana smoothed a lock of hair behind Maia's ear. "And yes, honey, he's wrong."

"So you'll see him tomorrow?"

"We'll see him tomorrow."

"No, just you," insisted Maia.

"Why just me?" She couldn't help being curious and a bit suspicious.

But Maia's tone was too matter-of-fact to hide any artifice. "Some things you have to do on your own."

With her wise child safe in her arms, Diana fell into a peaceful sleep.

In the morning, she woke to find her daughter staring at her, deep in thought. They talked for a long time about what had happened, why it had happened, and how they were going to prevent it from happening again. Maia was amazingly calm about it all, explaining how she knew, shortly after waking up from the anesthetic, that she would be returned safely home. She went on to say Marco believed the people who'd taken her weren't really interested in stopping Diana from testifying; they'd wanted Maia for her abilities. After all, kidnapping Alana would have been much easier, given the complications of dealing with the building's security. Killing Diana or Tom outright would have also have been simpler if all they'd wanted was to silence their testimony. It was a bit disturbing hearing such things coming from the mouth of her child--that she'd have to even contemplate anything so grim--but Maia had seen Collier's death and the coming war. How much worse were words of violence compared to seeing the reality of it in Technicolor in your mind's eye?

The smell of coffee finally got her out of bed. April had made pancakes, which Maia happily enjoyed, but Diana's stomach wasn't in the mood for food. She stuck to yogurt and humored her sibling by having a piece of toast with some homemade April had jam brought from California. Maia asked the questions Diana had been too distracted to voice the night before. This was how she found out Marco had bought April a plane ticket. She also learned he'd made sure Mrs. Skalko had been around to help out.

By ten, Diana had showered and changed, and the guilt of all she owed Marco was making her antsy. Worse, knowing he'd done none of it to make her feel guilty made her feel even guiltier; it was unfair to project her mother's tendencies onto him. With assurances from Maia and April, and the half dozen NTAC security agents patrolling the building, she reached the point where she was willing to leave her daughter for a few hours. Having the security detail increased by five caused her more guilt--that these men were spending their weekends looking after them--as well as a sense of inadequacy. Her rational mind knew there was no reason to feel that way, but her emotions and ego insisted that she should be all Maia needed to be safe. That she wasn't meant she wasn't good enough, and that was not acceptable.

She struggled with these issues as she made her way across town to Marco's new place. She'd never been to the old one, his apartment uptown, but it had only just occurred to her that maybe she should have shown more interest in his first home, something besides the typical questions about square footage and amenities accompanied by a slap on the shoulder to congratulate him on becoming a property owner. It was in a decent neighborhood, just on the cusp between urban and suburban, with nicely established trees and a park nearby. His rowhouse was one of a set which had been built as part of a recent urban renewal project, with garages in back and inviting porches and landscaping in front. The street was wide, with a bike path and designated guest parking on opposite sides.

After getting out of her car, she double-checked the address and drummed up her courage. The day was sunny, with birds chirping in the trees and flowers in bloom. It was as though the world was telling her to relax and enjoy life, but the knots in her stomach were oblivious. With reluctant steps, she walked across the porch and rang the door bell. On either side were pots of a piney shrub she quickly realized was rosemary, which offered up a fragrant greeting.

The door was opened by a pretty, smiling, pregnant brunette in an apron. "Hello."

"Hi..." Diana looked at the house number again. "I, uh...think I have the wrong place..."

"Who are you looking for?"

"Marco Pacella."

This made the woman's smile even broader, eyes sparkling behind wire-rim glasses. "Oh! You must be Diana!" She held out her right hand, and Diana automatically returned the gesture, sharing a firm handshake. "I should have recognized you. Please come in."

With a tug from her hostess, Diana found herself entering a sparsely furnished, negligibly decorated but nicely sized home. To the right was a room populated by nothing more than an exercise machine and backed by a stairwell; to the left was a family room that opened to an empty dining room. Combined with the mostly white walls, it was like walking into a house in transition, not quite lived in.

"Marco's taking a shower."

Distantly, Diana became aware of the faint sound of running water.

"Would you like some coffee?"

"Sure," she answered numbly as her hostess led her to the other side of the stairs and sat her in a stool at a kitchen counter that overlooked a gas range.

Glancing at the woman's left hand, Diana noted a ring. Marco had never worn a ring nor mentioned a pregnant, married roommate. Even the wildest part of her mind rationalized that she wouldn't have had such a warm greeting if this woman was Marco's wife. So who was she? Her inquisitive nature overcame her growing sense of dread. When a mug of fresh coffee and a carton of cream were set in front of her, she said, "Thank you. Do you mind my asking who you are?"

This caused her hostess to blink at her then laugh. "Of course. Marco speaks of you so often, but we've never actually met, have we?" She held out her hand for another shake. "I'm Celia."

"Marco's sister Celia?" Looking past the mother-to-be glow and happy hostess vibe, she could almost see a lawyer in casual clothes.

Her big brown eyes twinkled with mirth. "I take it he hasn't mentioned my pregnancy?"

"Uh, no."

"Well, it's understandable."

Still adjusting to the revelation, it took a heartbeat for Diana to process the comment. "Why's that?"

There was a brief flash of an are-you-thick look in her eyes that reminded Diana of the one Marco sometimes gave Tom, but it was quickly covered by a thoughtful smile. "Pregnancy is generally connected to family, child rearing, marriage..." She let the sentence dangle in significance and took a sip of something that looked like grape juice. "I'm guessing he wouldn't want to intentionally bring up a topic that might make you uncomfortable."

Diana hadn't been sure what she might face when she'd come to Marco's home, but this was definitely not one of the scenarios she'd imagined. "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you." Her bright smile was nothing like Marco's goofy grin. "Have you eaten?"

"Not really...but I'm not very hungry."

Celia waved a dismissive hand and opened the refrigerator. "I'm sure last night would ruin anyone's appetite, but not eating won't help anything." Taking out a butter dish and carton of eggs, she set them on the counter next to the stove. From her perch on the other side of it, Diana had an ideal view of the cooking surface, and it was then she noticed the bread, grated cheese and frying pan that were already out. Apparently she'd arrived just in time for brunch. "How do you feel about bacon?"

"Okay, I guess."

"Great!" Her hostess rummaged in the refrigerator and freezer while she talked. "I hate cooking bacon at my place because the smell lingers forever, but Marco has a better vent than I do." Returning to the counter with her haul, she snapped on then the burner under the frying pan then unwrapped and tossed in a frozen, folded slice of bacon. "So how is Maia doing?"

"Surprisingly well, or I wouldn't be here." She could barely hear the hum of the vent fan over her head.

Reaching into a basket full of onions, Celia pulled out a head of garlic and snapped off a fat clove. Then, with the thoughtless grace of someone who has done the same thing a thousand times, she laid the blade of a kitchen knife against it, smashed it, removed the skin and began mincing it. "Marco said she seemed pretty calm about the whole thing. I think 'eerily unfazed' were the words he used." The bacon had started to hiss, and she poked at it with a wooden spoon, causing it to unfold. "It's amazing what kids can handle sometimes."

"Maia's no ordinary kid." Was that a hint of pride in her voice?

"Having lost her parents and ending up sixty years in the future, how could she be?" Celia paused as she ground pepper into the pan to give her guest a calculating gaze. "Or do you mean there's something else that makes her extraordinary?" Apparently Diana's expression conveyed more than she'd intended, for Celia hastily held up a hand and added, "...not that it's any of my business." She absently tossed the garlic into the bacon fat. "So long as she's okay."

Diana felt a corner of her mouth tug up. "I think she's taking all this better than I am."

Snagged the crisped bacon with a pair of tongs, she asked, "How _are_ you doing, if you don't mind me asking?" while crushing the bacon in a bowl.

"I'm still trying to figure that out." It was not the sort of thing she would usually confess, let alone to a relative stranger, but Celia was as easy to talk to as Marco.

With a conspiratorial grin, she popped open a bag of spinach and dumped it into the pan. "It's always easier to think things through on a full stomach."

"I guess." The savory cooking smells were almost making her think nice things about food. "So...how is he?"

Celia absently flipped the spinach, making sure it cooked evenly. "At the moment, mostly hurt and uncertain."

"Uncertain? About..."

"His career choice, what's happened and, well, you." Diana's anxiety must have showed on her face, because Celia immediately backpedaled. "It'll be okay. He gets like this every once in a while; he just needs some reassurance and time to think."

"I've never hit him before or told him to go away."

"No, but there were extenuating circumstances. It's not everyday your child gets kidnapped." At this, she ran a protective hand over her protruding stomach. "Speaking of which, where's Maia?"

"With my sister. Apparently Marco bought her a plane ticket so there'd be someone up here to help me."

"There you go." She said it as though it proved something obvious and irrefutable.

"'There you go' what?"

Turning off the heat, Celia began to scrape the contents of the pan into the bowl, tossing the spinach to spread the bacon bits around. Setting down the heavy pan with a little grunt of effort, she returned her attention to Diana. "He's looking out for you, has your best interests at heart."

"Well, we're fairly close."

This gained her a skeptical raised eyebrow from Celia. "Fairly close, huh?" She pulled a mug from a cupboard and filled it with coffee, a spoon full of sugar and another of cream, just the way Marco liked his. "Honestly, how many coworkers would have done that? How many even knew you had a sister before last night?"

"I..."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs behind her cause Diana to stiffen in anticipation.

"You just _had_ to cook bacon!" Marco's vexation held a resigned amusement as his words bounced down the stairs and around the empty house.

"Humor your pregnant sister!" Celia called back, then she patted Diana's hand. "Just be honest with each other. It'll be okay." Picking up the mug, she moved toward the wide arch that led to the hall and dining room.

"Last time I checked...bacon wasn't on the doctor's list of recommendations." His voice reached a more normal volume as he approached the bottom of the stairs.

"But the spinach it's flavoring is in the top ten."

"A likely excuse."

Barefooted, unshaven, with tousled, damp hair, Marco had an unguarded openness to him that was accentuated by his clothes. He wasn't wearing the concealing layers Diana was used to. An old T-shirt clung to each muscle that wasn't hidden beneath the towel around his neck. Its sandy color was just a few shades off his skin, nearly giving the illusion of shirtlessness. It wasn't often she saw his bare forearms. Their liberal dusting of dark hair added to the enhanced aura of masculinity his stubble and revealing shirt evoked. The loose fabric of his brick red exercise pants flowed smoothly across every surface it came in contact with, shifting enticingly to offer glimpses of well toned legs as he moved.

Diana associated so much of Marco with his face and hands--the intelligence and humor in his eyes, warm smiles and kisses, his gentle, supportive touch. It wasn't often she overtly considered the whole package, but there was no helping it. Heat crept to her cheeks as she ogled him, and she was relieved he'd yet to notice her.

Accepting the coffee from his sister, he took a long draught. "Thanks. And thanks for coming over."

"No problem."

"Was that the door I heard?"

"Yes. You have a guest." She gestured in Diana's direction.

Without his glasses, Marco had to squint at her, confusion creasing his brow. Then his eyes went wide, and he glanced away.

Celia put her hand on his arm, and he met her gaze. "Marco." There was censure in his sister's voice. "Say good morning."

He held Celia's gaze for a moment before nodding and turning to face Diana full on. That was when she saw the horrible bruises, one on his left cheek, the other on the side of his nose. They were accompanied by dark circles under his eyes, a testament to his late-night efforts to rescue her daughter. Between that and the bland, friendly mask he wore, she felt her heart sink. It was not a sensation she'd ever thought she'd associate with him, and it soured her already miserable stomach.

"Good morning, Diana." He smiled as though there was nothing wrong.

"Good morning, Marco." Was that quiet, quavering voice really hers?

Taking away his coffee, Celia poked Marco in the kidney, causing him to yelp and give her a frown. "What was that?" she demanded impatiently. Taking her brother by the elbow, she dragged him to the stove. Setting down his mug, she gestured to Diana. "Tell her what you're thinking." When he hesitated, she insisted. "Tell her."

There was something slightly different, perhaps more revealing, about talking to him without the subtle screen of his glasses between them. Despite that, Diana wasn't quite sure what it was she saw in his eyes, but she was more than familiar with the sincerity in his voice. "I'm surprised to see you here." His gaze dipped briefly to his hands. When he looked up, an uncertain smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad you're okay."

For a moment, they just stared at each other, and the warmth of his gaze began to melt the ice in her gut.

"There. That wasn't so difficult." She'd almost forgotten Celia was there. "How about you, Diana?"

"I..." It was her turn to look at her hands, absently swirling the coffee in her mug. His sister's presence was obtrusive yet reassuring, like an oarsman steering them through rough waters. "I wanted to thank you..." She looked back into his eyes, trying to convey the depth of her gratitude. "For Maia, for April...for everything." Just thinking about all he'd done caused an strange, expansive sensation in her chest that awed and frightened her. It was like she was losing her grip, the currents of her emotions pulling her out to sea. She felt her eyes sting with the start of tears and blinked them away. Tears, especially public ones, were not acceptable. "And I wanted to say how sorry I am for what I did."

She could tell there was more going on behind his eyes than what he was showing, but there was no hint of his original false cheer. "You're welcome, and...thanks."

"Well, now that the hard part's done..." Celia pulled the towel from around Marco's neck, giving Diana a glimpse of his respectably defined pecs revealed by the tight fit of his shirt. "Time for you to feed us." She slipped her apron off and placed it on her brother, briefly standing on her toes to accommodate her belly-reduced reach. "I was thinking a spinach omelet," she added as she hung his towel on a peg near the back door. Retrieving her glass of juice, she maneuvered around the stove to claim the stool next to Diana. By that point, Marco had already cracked five eggs into a bowl and was beating them with a fork.

Diana had never seen an omelet being made. It was actually entertaining to watch, especially as he tapped the pan to get the eggs to wrap around the filling. Of course, she suspected it was a lot more difficult than he made it look. Once he was done, Marco took off the apron and, to Diana's disappointment, put on a well-loved long-sleeved corduroy shirt that had been hanging by the back door. The omelet was delicious, though both Diana and Marco conceded the largest, central segment to his sister. The cherries and fresh loaf of bread that accompanied it were also tasty and reminded Diana she was nearly out of fruit at home. The thought was almost refreshing in its mundanity.

Celia proved to be an excellent conversationalist, drawing Diana out of her shell of discomfort to discuss everything from farmer's markets to corporate finance. Slowly, she felt herself begin to normalize as she was persuaded to think of things other than her daughter, the kidnapping and her relationship with Marco.

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed twelve.

"Well, sorry to eat and run, but that means it's time for me to head back." Celia hopped from her stool and made her way to the front door. They both followed.

"Sure, stink up my house with bacon then flee the scene."

"Really, Marco," Celia's voice held no remorse, "if you don't want to cook with bacon, then you shouldn't have any in your kitchen."

"Oh, use logic as your defense, why don't you?" He opened the door for her with a smile.

"Why do you think Olivia never has any?" Standing on tiptoes, again, she gave her brother a hug and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for breakfast." Then she turned to Diana. "It was nice to finally meet you."

"It was nice meeting you, too."

Celia offered another handshake. "I hope we get to see each other again, soon." Still holding onto Diana, she took her brother's hand and placed it on top, sandwiching their hands between hers. Diana felt his fingers flex around hers then loosen, as though self-conscious of the customary gesture. "You've both been through a lot. Try to be gentle with each other and yourselves." She said it with a sudden intensity of feeling and, to Diana's surprise, a misty-eyed smile. Letting them go, Celia turned and bent subtly yet awkwardly to snap off a branch of rosemary before starting across the porch. "Call me if you need anything, Marco."

They watched her walk down the sidewalk for a minute before Marco closed the door. He sighed, "Well, that's one down."

Unsure what he'd meant, she followed him back to the kitchen and asked. "What do you mean?"

"Only one more sibling to go," he explained with a resigned grin as he collected the plates.

A little flash of indignation caused her to frown. "You were afraid to introduce me to your family?" Did he think his relatives would disapprove of her? Some people still had odd notions about adoption, single motherhood and unmarried women her age.

Nodding, he dumped the dishes in the sink, his smile sheepish. "I've been worried they might scare you away."

"Oh." She felt a bit of shame from having jumped to the wrong conclusion. After all, she'd never introduced April to anyone during her sister's last visit. "She seemed very nice."

"If she ever hears you say that, she'll have you eating out of the palm of her hand in no time." He snorted. "She was on good behavior, and...I don't know if you noticed, but we just narrowly missed a hormonal moment." For some reason, he seemed oddly determined to get the dishes done. "So Maia's doing okay?"

"Yeah, thanks to you."

"Thanks to her visions. I can't get over how calm she was. It's nice to know they can be beneficial."

"Take the compliment, Marco."

At her tone, he paused and looked at her. Nodding, he asked, "April didn't have any problems getting to your place?"

"I guess not. We didn't really talk about it." Now that they were discussing things, she felt the need for his undivided attention. "Can't the dishes wait?"

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I want to deal with the bacon smell as quick as I can." Leaning over the sink, he unlocked the window and slid it open. "I know...it's a bit obsessive, but...it's my first house."

And just like that, a whole other side of him fell into place for her, giving her a deeper sense of his life outside of work and their relationship. "Anything I can do to help?"

This gained her a patented, Marco, happy-goofy grin. "Open up one of the windows out front?"

"Sure."

By the time she came back, he was wiping down the stove. "Want to sit on the sofa?" While he said it casually, there was weighty implication to it--both that she would be staying longer and that doing so would offer them the chance to be physically close. They'd had the stove and counter between them most of the morning.

"Sure."

He led her to the couch and gestured for her to sit. It was plush and colorful and still had that new-fabric smell. She chose the middle so he would know she wanted him close. He picked the left corner, with his unbruised side facing her. They sat there in an uncomfortable silence, not quite looking at each other, until Marco wiped his palms on his knees and turned to face her.

"I'm really glad you and Maia are okay."

"You already said that."

"I did, didn't I?" He glanced away, and they fell into another silence.

Fast losing the comfort that brunch had brought her, Diana impulsively reached for one of his hands. There was something infinitely reassuring about sharing touch and warmth with him, and the reflexive stroke of his thumb across her fingers expressed more than all the words they'd spoken that day.

"We don't really talk about some things."

"No," he agreed.

"I wonder how normal that is."

His lips thinned in a suppressed smile. "Normal is relative."

"But it makes it more difficult at times like these."

"It does."

"I haven't ruined things, have I?" It seemed unnatural to be able to speak so calmly about something so powerful. Her family had always measured the potency of a topic with vehemence--a habit that had taken years to control, though she'd never quite mastered it.

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. "No. But you did hit me, and that does complicate things."

"I'm not sure it deserves too much scrutiny; I wasn't quite myself at the time."

"Yeah, I know, but...if it had been you and Tom coming back from an assignment, would you have hit _him_?"

She wanted to say "yes," but she considered it for a moment. "Probably not."

"It's not just the misdirected anger. It's...almost as if you won't let yourself..."

"As if I won't what?" Only a bit of her defensiveness came through in her voice.

"As if I'm an indulgence you don't think you should have. I'd never been sure if you weren't just...going with the flow. Then, on the same night that you decide to take a big step, you also demand I leave. I can't help but wonder if you're afraid of me...of us."

Although it initially sounded ridiculous, there was some sense to it. "Marco, what can I do to fix this?"

"There's only one thing I can think of that might really help things along, but...I'm not sure you'll appreciate it."

"What?"

"Counseling."

The corners of her mouth quirked up. "Would it help to know Nina's already signed me up...Maia, too."

"Yes, but would you really talk to an NTAC shrink about _us_?"

"...probably not," she admitted.

"We could find someone...go together."

"You really think...?"

"It couldn't hurt." He gave her a crooked grin. "And it's not as though we've been doing the best of jobs on our own."

Thinking of how long it had taken her from the first flicker of interest to their first kiss, it was difficult to argue. She'd though things had smoothed out since then, but how was it she'd only just visited his house or met any of his family? Everything had been on her terms, on her territory, at her pace. It was only fair she make a concession to him for her myopic selfishness.

"Consider it a way of making things easier for ourselves," he suggested. "What do you think?"

"Sure."

"Good." Putting his other hand over theirs, he stood and drew her up with him. "But...I think it's time for you to go."

The unexpected change of direction disoriented her. "Why?"

Wrapping her arm around his, he guided her to the front door. "It's a ten minute walk to Celia's and a fifteen to twenty minute drive to Olivia's. So I figure we have..." he glanced at his watch, "about ten minutes before she gets here. One sibling a day is enough."

"How do you know she's coming?"

"Because I'm sure, the minute she got back, Celia called Olivia to taunt her about getting to meet you first."

"Things went well enough with Celia. Would it really be so bad..."

"You and Olivia are both eldest. You have a lot of...similar traits." His uncomfortable smile bordered on a grimace. "You'll either get along like matter and antimatter or peanut butter and jelly. Allow me to be worried about both."

Amusement bubbled within her, and she smiled as she turned to face him. He'd done his best to keep his bruises away from her, but standing face to face, there was no avoiding them. Reaching out a tentative hand she brushed his cheek, just below the sullen purple stain. His eyes closed in contentment, as they occasionally did when she touched him, though he winced slightly when her fingers drew too close.

"Does it hurt much?"

Opening his eyes, he gave her a quiet smile. "It'll be okay."

His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, but instead of kissing her, he held her. The feeling of his arms around her was like redemption, lifting a huge weight from her shoulders, overwhelming her with a sense of solace.

"Marco..." she murmured into his neck, too relieved to think of anything else to say.

Tightening his grip, he pressed his lips to her temple. "I know."

She wasn't sure what it was he knew, but she was satisfied he seemed comfortable with her again. After a long moment, he loosened his hold on her and drew back a little. Taking the opportunity, she kissed him, lightly, gently, but that didn't last long. Her simple gesture seemed to open the floodgates, and soon, Marco's hands found their way to her face, tangling in her hair, drawing her into a deeper kiss. It was as though he intended to burn away their problems with the heat of his passion, and she was happy to add fuel to the fire.

Breathlessly, they broke apart, and she smiled at him. "Okay, now I can go."

"Yeah." He was wearing another happy-goofy grin. "I'm good with that."

Opening the door, her led her through, but she held onto his hand. "Come to my place for brunch tomorrow? April's probably dying to meet you."

"Sure. I think it's only fair."

He watched as she made her way to her car, waving while she pulled out and passed his house.

As she drove home, Diana reflected on how much her life had changed over the past two years. With the arrival of the 4400, her personal and professional vistas had expanded further than she'd ever guessed possible, encompassing the life-altering realities of psychic powers and motherhood. By opening her heart to Maia, she had opened it for Marco and April, as well. All three offered her challenges and complications, but the rewards were more than worth the effort.

Greeted at the door by a smiling child's hug, she decided, no matter the difficulties, she wouldn't change things for the world.

* * *

**FIN**


End file.
